


i stuck around to hear him laugh again

by la_victorienne



Category: Star Trek
Genre: Always-a-girl!Kirk - Freeform, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-05
Updated: 2009-07-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 10:51:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10555092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/la_victorienne/pseuds/la_victorienne
Summary: shore leave for theuss enterprise.





	

Shore leave is one thing Jim Kirk is pretty good at, if she does say so herself.

She's managed to have them docked for the week on Echelon VI-Tango, more commonly known as Planet Reno for its desert-like climate and plentiful resort attractions. There's a Starfleet outpost, of course; the Federation's flagship can hardly gallivant off to a pleasure planet without anybody (like Admiral Pike) noticing. But Planet Reno has nearly respectable base lodgings and full communications coverage in case of emergency, and as Omega crew finally disembarks in twenty-six degree sunshine and clear skies for a week, even Spock has to acknowledge that she's done pretty good – for Jim Kirk, that is.

"I believe these will be acceptable as temporary quarters," he says impassively, before he and Uhura disappear into the house they'll be sharing with the rest of Omega crew. Jim just smiles and hoists her bag.

Bones quickly grabs it out of her hands without a word.

"You know," she calls after him, "I may be a girl, but I can carry my own stuff. It's not that hard, really, I pack light."

"Sure you can, Jim. But maybe it makes me feel like a gentleman to carry your stuff for you. Maybe I'm just trying to be nice."

"Nice? Shit, what did I do to you? Nice means I did something bad. Don't punish me, Bones, pretty please? Or, you know, _do_. But not with being nice. Whips, chains, nipple clips – but not nice."

But then they're in the room they're sharing and Bones has dropped the bags on the bed, and he's invading Jim's personal space in a way she is _absolutely certain_ is not nice. "You know how I feel about bondage, Jim."

Jim does, and it ain't pretty. She puts her hands on either side of Bones' face and kisses him, gentler than usual. "Sorry. Got carried away." They hear a high-pitched moan from the other side of the wall – Chekov and Sulu's room. Jim grins. "Guess I'm not the only one."

"That kid is just a kid," Bones growls. "Shouldn't be starting so early in the damn day."

"Oh, come on. They're here in the house for the same reason any of us are. It's the middle of the day, we don't have shit to do or a boss to answer to, any of us, and the weather is perfect for a fuck. You can't fault them for having a little fun." She cocks her head and leans in again. "After all, weren't we about to…"

They were, and Bones knows it. He growls a little, because if there's one thing in the world Leonard McCoy can't resist, it's Jim Kirk's scary-obscene-beautiful mouth, and kisses her against the door.

It started like this: Leonard McCoy sat down next to the only other person in civvies on the whole damn shuttle, said "I might throw up on you," and made a best friend for life.

And like this: Jim Kirk, with blood on her face and two cracked ribs, watched one of the prettiest people she'd ever seen bitch about space and disease, and made a best friend for life.

And then suddenly they were joined at the hip, separating only for classes and showers, and the occasional fuck. A girl with a man's name and a man with a kid's name, balanced and comfortable and alive, no doubt about that. Jim slept in Bones' bed, ate his food, threw her laundry in with his, and danced dirty with him when there was nobody worth pursuing.

Until suddenly he was the one worth pursuing.

(Bones, fuck, Bones, why haven't we ever done this before, we're fucking brilliant together, you're amazing, Jesus, Bones, do that thing again, with your hips, holy fuck you're like a god, yes, yes, yes)

(Bones, no, don't leave, I swear to god I'm not ever gonna sleep with anybody else, nobody knows me like you do, I want you, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me, I can't watch you leave, no, no, no)

(Bones, for Christ's sake, I'm not a baby, it's just a couple of bruises, but we saved the fucking universe, Bones, didn't we, didn't we, and if I'm ever captain of the Enterprise again you better be my CMO, 'cause I'm never going anywhere without you again, I fucking love you, Bones, don't ask me to repeat it, but I will, I will, I will)

And here they are. Shore leave in a house already balmy with sweat and sex and need, because fuck if everybody isn't paired off by now, it's been three years on a five year tour, and Bones and Jim are doing it against a wall with really shitty wallpaper, a constant stream of silence from one and filth from the other. Jim smiles a shit-eating smile and digs her heels into Bones' back before sinking her teeth into his shoulder with a growl of satisfaction.

This really is the life, dirtside. Bones got her a temporary pass to the library and Jim came out with a stack of books up to her knees, there's a pool by the housing complex where Scotty and Uhura have already set up a permanent Omega crew lounge area, and Jim has even seen Spock smile twice, albeit not directly at her. The sunshine browns her body and lightens her hair – the one pale and the other dark from months in artificial light – and there's a certain amount of satisfaction to be derived from watching Bones' mouth go dry when she asks him to put sunscreen on her back. Which he does, in broad, slick strokes that burn hotter than the warm sunshine. Oh, yes, this really is the life.

When the afternoon cools down they go to the Old Earth style pavilion arcade and play a tournament of pool on the antique tables, badmouthing and taunting in the easy camaraderie of a family. Jim trounces Spock in a round of the game and has her own ass handily beat out by Bones ten minutes later. There's dancing on the sandy boardwalk, warm and sweaty with a couple of beers in all of them (even Chekov, a giddy, adorable drunk) and as they watch the dark red sun setting over the blue-sea horizon Bones slings an arm around Jim's shoulders, his hand gripping right at the short fuzz at the back of her neck, and tugs her close.

"Love you, kid," he says gruffly, and the whole universe narrows to that moment. Because they don't say stuff like that all too often, and never in front of people, even if those people are Omega crew, and although Bones is looking out at the sunset and not directly at her, although his tongue is loosened by Dos Equis and lime, although most of the people around them are occupied with their own personal narrow-universe moments, Jim can't speak.

"Bones, I – " but there's nothing else to say. Bones' gray-green eyes and her blue ones meet, and his mouth brushes hers quickly, a promise for later.

And that's a promise she fully intends to keep.

For the first time ever, on shore leave or on duty, there aren't any emergencies, there aren't any crises, and there's nothing in the world to keep them from finishing out the rest of the week in a haze of beer, sex, and warm, sunny bliss.

So yeah, this is one thing Jim Kirk knows how to do right. And she and Bones are gonna do it right all night long.


End file.
